Her flight had landed at Washington Dulles International, and after the hassle of getting through security checkpoints while skipping baggage claim—she packed light, one night at the longest—a vehicle waited for Amanda Waller. It was not a limousine, but a standard Suburban with the usual bells and whistles. It didn't stick out here because there were multiples of the same vehicle.

Unlike the others, Director Bordeaux was waiting in hers. Handing her carry-on to an A.R.G.U.S. agent, Waller stepped into the vehicle and settled herself in. Minutes later, the Suburban was moving, slowly at first due to the traffic at the terminal exit, but soon enough they were reaching the city beyond.

The destination was First Street and East Capitol Street, the eastern end of the National Mall. You could tell what was there because the tall, domed building that sat there gave it away. There were fifty-one of those buildings in the entire country, but this one was perhaps the most important.

You could tell how much closer you were getting based on how tall that building became. Waller barely spared it a glance. The flippant "I've already seen it" excuse wasn't the reason; she simply did not care.

"What are you going to be telling them?" Bordeaux spoke up. It was the first words the director had said since they had left the airport, far from a cordial greeting.

"Only what's relevant. Security concerns, the need for a segregated population, and nothing more than that," Waller replied.

"The vultures are going to want to pick your bones," Bordeaux warned needlessly.

"They can try. They will fail," Waller remarked.

The director gave a sigh. "Now isn't the time for overconfidence. It won't be just a handful of senators watching your every move. This is being televised. Who knows who will be watching. This is going to require the performance of a lifetime, Waller. There are individuals in there who would love nothing more than to cut not only our funding, but also eliminate us entirely."

Out of respect for the situation, Waller did not snort. "As I said before, they can try. These aren't individuals who are used to trying to earn their victories, they want them handed to them on a silver platter without having to work for it. Sound bites, that's what they want. They'll have their chance, and they will regret everyone they try to make."

Bordeaux wasn't necessarily wrong here, but as she had told Flag before, she knew how to get people to do things they did not want to do. While bombs were handy, for the weak-willed politicians, humiliation on live television would work better and cut deeper.

There was very little that differentiated the sociopaths she dealt with on a regular basis and those running the government. Both were motivated by self-interest, and there were more similarities between those interests than there were differences. Some of these people had egos that were begging to be deflated. Getting her to stop would be motivation enough to end these hearings.

It wouldn't take long to figure out which buttons to press. Even the most ardent opponent could be made to stand down, or better yet change their mind.

"If it will calm you, I will keep my answers brief. They'll have to work in order to get anything of substance from me. Rest assured, they will not learn anything about Task Force X. Nothing of value will reach the public's attention."

Bordeaux gave a sigh. "I know you can handle yourself. Your tolerance for ineptitude and grandstanding is what concerns me."

"You would be surprised what I can tolerate." No need to give further details there. The less Bordeaux knew, the better the chances of plausible deniability were.

This was just a show, something to distract from what was really important. A waste of time, and if there was one thing that Waller detested, it was her time being wasted. Trust a politician to be capable of that much. If this show was what they truly wanted, they would get a show, but not the one they were seeking.

The driver took a turn, bringing them that much closer to Capitol Hill. The dome that sat upon the capitol building itself loomed more and more as it continued to tower above. The Suburban was slowing down once more and this time it was city traffic that was responsible. Regardless, there was still time to arrive for the hearing.

It was more than enough time for Waller to prepare herself, both mentally and her talking points.

There was a nickname she had been given, The Wall. This Senate Judicial Hearing would be great to demonstrate why she was known as such.

No, not demonstrate, remind. Sometimes fools forgot their lessons and needed to relearn them one more time.

The Arctic was just as frigid as it was the last time. At least the storm was gone, revealing a bright, blue sky without hardly a cloud to be seen. The icy hellscape stretched out as far as the eyes could see.

Though beautiful and much more preferable than the blizzard, this too had its own set of problems.

Snow blindness was a thing. It was essentially sunlight being reflected off of the snow, but at such a bright intensity that it could cause blindness. A set of goggles helped in this regard. For Deadshot, he just had to have his mask on and that took care of that. The same with Black Spider. For Boomerang, Diablo, and Electrocutioner, each had a set of ski goggles on in addition to the thick parkas all five of them wore.

They weren't at the last known location of Victor Fries, which was the cave they found his suit in. No, considering there were no signs of habitation in that cave aside from the suit, it was most likely Fries had simply stashed his suit there and left it behind. Deadshot initially thought that was a stupid idea; after all, that suit was Fries' best weapon. What would happen to him if he ran into someone bigger, stronger, and deadlier than him?

But then came their search and…well, it began to dawn on the sharpshooter why Fries had chosen the option to leave his suit behind.

A search with thermal vision had produced nothing. They had tested it on themselves, even with their insulated clothing, and each Task Force X member had glowed brilliant shades of orange, yellow, and red. With the subzero temperatures, you would think searching for one such glow would give them the exact location of Fries.

But no, that hadn't worked. They used the helicopter to make a few pass-overs of the region and they didn't find anything. No thermal patterns, no moving shades, nothing. Either Fries was hidden under the ice somewhere or—

"How the hell have we not found this wanker running around in his skivvies?" Harkness had demanded.

And that had caused Deadshot to realize thermal wouldn't work. A quick reference into the file of Victor Fries' known file and, yeah, the guy had a body temperature well below normal human body temp. That meant he literally could blend in with the frozen tundra and no amount of thermal readings would detect him.

Fries hadn't abandoned his suit so much as discarded it. The bigger, stronger, deadlier things couldn't harm him as most bigger, stronger, deadlier things couldn't survive in this environment.

Well, unless you didn't count polar bears.

So using most modern radar systems wasn't going to be of use. Thermal was out; sonar could only detect the soundwaves it projected, so if Fries wasn't outside, it would never detect him.

That was when Black Spider made a solid point on food.

Even if Fries could hide out like the smallest needle in the world's largest haystack, he had to eat. Food and water were crucial to survival. Water wouldn't be an issue since the Arctic was one of the last areas humans hadn't polluted. Melting snow and ice were reasonable possibilities, or even collecting water at the shoreline was easily done.

That's where food came in and there were only so many food sources here, all of which involved the water. With minimal land animals here, it was a strict seafood diet. This led their team to the coast.

Though the tundra stretched out as far as the eye could see, there was an ocean behind Deadshot. The sound of waves crashing against the ice shelf behind him was a constant thing.

The others were spread out across the coastline, searching for clues, basically signs of a man fishing or diving under the waves. Harkness had balked at anyone diving underwater because of the very reasonable fear of hypothermia. They had to remind themselves that Fries, while not immune to such a condition, had a high resistance to it.

It wasn't until Black Spider hailed them over the comm link that they found their first clue. "I've found something," the assassin announced.

Immediately, Deadshot headed in the direction of the man, the others doing the same. They found Black Spider kneeling on the ground, close to the edge of the icy shore, and looking down. When they reached there, they looked down at what was captivating the man so much.

What Deadshot saw were large footprints, ones that were clearly not human. Now, these were definitely bear tracks, meaning there were polar bears around. There were two sets, and it looked as if they had climbed themselves out of the water.

"Bear tracks?" Harkness spoke out loud. "This is what ya found?"

"Two sets," Black Spider confirmed.

"So?"

"Most bears are solitary animals. The only time you see them in a group is when a mother is raising her cubs," the assassin pointed out. He then literally pointed at the tracks. "These tracks were made by full-grown adult bears."

Staring at them, Deadshot could see where the guy was coming from. Each set was large, but they were similar enough in size. If one had been made by a cub, one set would be noticeably smaller than the other.

"I still don't see what the bloody big deal is," the Aussie continued.

"Since when do adult polar bears walk side by side with each other?" Black Spider asked him, then he reached a hand into the snow, burying it up to his wrist before pulling it out. "And when do they leave arrowheads behind them?"

Deadshot stared at the arrowhead. Now that was a surprise. He saw the chiseled, triangular shape, one he knew well from his childhood. It was a child's pastime to walk around dry creek beds and find scattered arrowheads.

However, this one wasn't made of stone or rock. No, this one looked too translucent for that. There was also this odd light coming from it, a reflection of the sun off of it.

"That's not stone," he said as he reached a hand out for the arrowhead. Black Spider dropped it into his outstretched hand, and the sharpshooter then held it up into the air, seeing the different colored lights reflecting off of it. "This is crystal."

"What is a crystal arrowhead doing here?" Electrocutioner asked knowingly. It was clearly a rhetorical question as it dawned on all of them why such a thing would be here.

"Bloody hell, that yank is actually living out here," Harkness swore.

"And he's doing it with polar bears," Diablo quietly observed.

"What gives you that idea?"

"We don't see any blood anywhere. You would think those bears would maul him the first chance they got."

Harkness stared at the former gangbanger. "Are you pullin' me leg? You saying this walking icicle has trained bears with him? For real?"

"It's not that hard to train an animal," Diablo shrugged. "All you have to do is consistently offer it something it needs—like food."

"I'm not entirely on board with the idea that Fries has some trained bears on his side, but I'm not gonna discount that he may be living with them," Deadshot said. The very idea of it sounded ridiculous, even if Diabolo had a point. Hell, for all they knew, Fries had found himself a couple cubs and raised them into adulthood. That was explain a lot too. "At the very least, we can follow these tracks. These bears may have a den somewhere for them to hunker down in, especially since there was a blizzard here not that long ago."

"Which means these tracks are fresh," Black Spider pointed out. "If they had been made before the blizzard, chances would be that they'd be wiped out."

That was a good point, and one that helped bolster the sharpshooter's thoughts. "At the very least, we leave here with a couple of bear pelts for Waller's office."

"I still think this is bonkers, but I don't see why not," Harkness added. "Alright, fearless leader, lead the way."

The room was large and spacious, floor carpeted, and yet crowded from those watching the proceedings. An area both on the floor and on balconies gave a view to the proceedings. At one end of the room was a long table, one that hid the lower bodies of those seated behind it. At regular intervals, placards named each and every person at that table.

Facing it was a much smaller table, one that Amada Waller sat at. A microphone was attached to the lapel of her suit. For those who sat in opposition to her, they had stands for their microphones. They also possessed stern looks that tried to stare her down and intimidate her. Suits and ties, blouses, many had flag pins on their lapels. These were the members of the committee that had her in their sights.

Waller remained blank and faced them back. She was not the least bit intimidated.

You would think being in the halls of power would humble her, but you would be wrong. She was made of far sterner stuff, and her own life experiences had taught her not to show any weakness, not to anyone.

"What was the purpose of building an underground prison under your prison, Warden Waller?" The man speaking was Senator Anthony Monetti. He was one of two senators from New Jersey. He had connections to a drug smuggling racket, but that hadn't gotten out yet.

"To ensure the safety of the prisoners under my care, Senator." Short, to the point, no messing around. Others might ramble or give long winded answers, but she had a job to get back to.

"Are you saying that the prisoners under your care are not safe?" Senator Peter Ross, from Kansas. He was perhaps the youngest appearing individual facing her. There was little of note in his file, other than perhaps a family connect to a hidden marijuana field on family farmland. He either was good at hiding his shady business, or he actually had morals that kept his nose clean.

"Safety is relative in prisons. Everyone knows this. You should know this." A barb had slipped through, but she kept her tone of voice neutral. "Belle Reve is no exception. It houses some of the most dangerous individuals in the country. Amongst those individuals are ones that possess the greatest of threats, not only to the public, but to the other inmates."

A slight silence, one that needed to be interrupted by another senator. "Is that not what protective custody is for? For what reason would you need to extend your facility underground? How dangerous are these inmates that you have to bury them?" The first sound bite and from Senator June Finch, Kentucky.

It was infuriating having to answer these spineless nitwits, but that was what you had to do. She kept her calm and composure, not letting the barbs get to her.

"If I were to use protective custody, Senator Finch, it would include the majority of general population. When ninety-nine percent of your population has to be in protective custody, that is far from ideal. It is easier to remove those who do not need it, place them in an area where at worst, they will only harm themselves. Due to some of their abilities, aboveground is not an option."

"Why not?" Finch pressed.

"One such individual can remove constructs in the form of playing cards from his skin. These constructs are capable of slicing through solid steel; what do you think these constructs will do to human flesh and bone? Another can emit powerful flames, enough to reduce a human body to ashes in seconds. One can drain the very heat from the human body. Tell me, Senator, where would you locate such individuals in order to protect the rest that you are charged with overseeing?"

That was the longest answer she had given yet.

"Be that as it may, you have no authorization to have constructed such a facility," Monetti picked up the baton from Finch. "Where did you appropriate the money needed for it? Why did you not inform your superiors about it?"

You could always expect a money question. "I did have the authorization, Senator. You approved it in one of the many funding bills you put forward over the years, including the funding to operate in the last debt ceiling agreement. It is not my fault if you do not read your own legislation." It did not need to be said that one of her own agents had snuck it in.

Monetti was struggling to remain in control, but the slight reddening of his cheeks gave away his offense. Other senators were frowning at the implication of what she had just revealed. That implication was less about her operating a secret facility and more that they weren't as innocent or self-righteous as they had thought. Before even coming here, she had obtained their names and any and all dirt that she could. If necessary, she would use said dirt, but preferably in a more private setting.

But if they kept testing her patience, she still had the floor.

One senator shifted in his seat. His placard spelled N. Perkins. He was representing Hawaii, and she knew why his first name was an initial. Something about having the first name Neptune impacted how people viewed you.

Perkins had a question of his own. "How successful has this facility been in protecting the general population of Belle Reve?"

A softball question, but one intended to pivot. "Extremely. Every inmate considered to be removed from general population must first be deemed highly dangerous, metahuman powers being a mandatory removal. Other criteria are considered for this status."

"And they remain there?" Perkins inquired.

"Separated from general population and allowed out of their cells for recreation one hour per day under heavy surveillance."

"There have never been any incidents of violence between the members of this segregated group?"

"Any and all incidents are swiftly contained and resolved."

"Discipline?"

"Only to those involved in such situations, and offenders are isolated until they are able to compose themselves. Due to the logistics of managing individuals with extraordinary powers, specialized protocols are in place that have been designed for such individuals."

There was more back and forth, wanting more details, Waller giving minimal descriptions. Other senators would speak up with their inane questions, trying to sneak in some sound bites while they were at it.

Then, when Perkins spoke again, "There are rumors that inmates incarcerated within Belle Reve are forced into teams or squads and sent out into dangerous areas for high-risk missions. Is there any truth to such rumors?"

There we are. She had been expecting such a question, the one inquiring into Task Force X. Waller already had an answer for that question.

"Such rumors are false, Senator. There are no teams or squads of inmates sent out for high-risk missions as you describe them. All inmates remain in the walls of Belle Reve to serve their sentences until either they have completed them or, are transferred to other facilities."

Denial. Rumors were not facts. It was hard to prove a negative, but these senators had to present evidence of their positive. Of this, Waller had been effective in cleaning up after her squads. Even if there were some unconvinced, they did not have the evidence needed to press her for more.

"Are you sure, Warden Waller?" Perkins pressed. "Such rumors have been persistent for some time."

"That is all they are, rumors. Baseless conspiracy theories. I ask you, Senator, why make a team of hardened criminals who would take the chance to escape if placed on these high-risk missions? It is utterly preposterous, and these inmates have no loyalty amongst themselves, or towards any employee of Belle Reve."

Sometimes you had to pull back on denial and go for the attack. Make such an idea ridiculous to consider, and others would follow because it was logical. The loyalty question had been one she had to grapple with before developing the nanotech bomb. With that contingency, loyalty was no longer an issue. These senators did not need to know about that, though.

And with their ignorance, they continued to grill her. Waller would weather it. This was far from the most intense situation she had ever been in.

"What about the reported explosion that occurred in March? Eyewitnesses from all over Louisiana reported that they had seen an explosion on that night in question. It could be seen for miles around," Finch began pressing her luck once more.

That explosion, the evidence of Major Force's demise, was not going to be as easily explained. Once more, she cursed both Slade Wilson and those Teen Titans in her head, but not once did she express any emotion she felt. No, she had yet another question to answer, and a difficult one too.

But she had an answer for that as well.

"There was indeed an explosion. An investigation is still being conducted as to its cause. A report will be turned in when the findings are discovered."

"You still don't know?" Senator Finch pressed incredulously. "After all of this time? That is unacceptable, Warden Waller. That is simply unacceptable."

"Investigations require time and resources," Waller countered, not the least bit annoyed by the senator's response. "Right now, those resources are coming out of the Belle Reve prison budget, which is also allocating those same resources to fixing the prison. That means our funds are stretched thin because we're also having to ensure the prison population is secured. If you wanted timely answers, you should have provided the necessary resources. You get what you pay for, Senator."

The last common aside, Amanda Waller was holding her own against the committee's questions. She didn't look the least bit overwhelmed, nor did she reveal just how annoyed she was by all of the questions.

In the gallery above, the dark-haired man watched the proceedings. It was becoming very apparent that these senators were trying to score political points rather than addressing the heart of the issue—namely why a secret prison had been built beneath Belle Reve. Instead, they were on the attack, trying to find a weakness that clearly wasn't there.

This was going to ultimately be a waste of time. Still, he would sit here until the end to make certain nothing was missed. There would certainly be questions as to why he was here; after all, he had a reputation as someone that preferred pleasurable ventures over professional ones.

Such was the life of Bruce Wayne.

He had been wise to put his own surveillance equipment in place when he infiltrated Belle Reve so long ago. The discovery of the secret prison and the Task Force X initiative were galling to say the least. So he had installed his own network to keep an eye on things.

Never would he have expected the Titans to go there for any reason. Never would he have expected Waller to welcome them in; she clearly had her reason for this, though they were still unknown as of this moment. Desperate times made for unconventional bedfellows, though. Then came Deathstroke and things had become a literal bloodbath, culminating in Major Force blowing up above the prison.

Not for the first time did Bruce wish he had intervened earlier. It was a good thing Red Robin had contacted him when he had, otherwise the conclusion to Slade Wilson's rampage would not have ended.

Naturally, once the dust had settled, Congress had been appalled to learn what was happening under their noses and were demanding answers. With interest on how the D.E.O. would respond, Bruce had drummed up some business that needed to be attended to in D.C., and here he was, watching the congressional spectacle.

The person next to him shifted in her seat, drawing his attention away from the proceedings. Sitting there was his newest assistant, a clear example of nepotism at work. Cassandra had dressed the part, looking quite professional in her blouse and pencil skirt. She even had her dark hair in a bun. It was a look that fit in with the other people in formal wear.

For a moment, Bruce noticed one such person, a man, eyeing Cassandra up and down, his eyes lingering on the dark pantyhose covering her legs. The girl seemed oblivious to the looks, her focus on the proceedings below. Bruce narrowed his eyes into a glare, one the man noticed a second later and immediately jerked his head away.

He returned his attention to his daughter. "Uncomfortable?" he whispered to her.

"Bored," she responded in the same soft tone. "How long does this last?"

"A while longer. We're staying until the end. I don't think the outcome will change, but we may find something out that we didn't already know."

"I was afraid you would say that."

The corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement before he returned his attention back to the proceedings. "It is my understanding that the FBI and other state efforts have been involved in the investigation," Senator Perkins was interjecting then. Faintly, the billionaire was aware that there had been some back-and-forth between Waller and Finch, the latter of whom was clearly trying to corner the former and wasn't having much success. Perkins' question was rather timely to get the hearing back on track.

"There have been encounters with them," Waller acknowledged.

"And you are aware of their findings thus far, is that correct?"

"Not at this time, no."

"Why is that, Warden Waller?"

"Because the FBI and the other state agencies haven't released their preliminary findings nor a final report on the incident in question. We—"

"I would like for the record to show that the FBI has indeed released a preliminary report," Senator Finch interrupted, cutting off Waller. "In fact, I am holding the report in my hand at this very moment."

This didn't rattle the short woman in the slightest. Most likely that was because she had already seen the report and knew what was in it. Such a report would have already been reviewed by the D.E.O. so that they weren't surprised by the findings. Chances were that there wasn't anything they were too worried about. So Waller would continue with her front of plausible deniability. "This is the first that I've heard of such a report," she said in response. "It would be much appreciated if a copy of the report could be forward to me so I can review it. It could very well contain the answers we're looking for."

"So, you're saying the answers we want are in this report?" Finch pressed.

"It's certainly possible."

"Meaning that they indeed are in here."

"Senator, I said they could be in there, meaning there is a possibility. That does not mean they are certainly there," Waller told her in the same cool tone.

"You're backtracking," Finch accused.

"You can read the notes later, or you can have the stenographer read them out now," Waller responded. "And you will hear I said the report in question 'could very well contain the answers we are looking for.' Just like there could be a possibility there are senators that don't fully read the legislation they are voting on."

Bruce had to resist reacting to that last barb. A couple senators on the committee were shifting in their seats from it, particularly Monetti. Finch just glared at Waller, who wasn't perturbed in the slightest. Waller had deftly handled that round of questioning.

Bruce had a feeling the next two hours of this hearing would end the same way.